


The Fight

by Vanyel



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: I'm Sorry, and what i did, but hey at least im writing again, the person who i am sorry to knows who they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyel/pseuds/Vanyel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not always sunny in Pyroland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fight

They were on the edge of the rooftop, as far away from each other as they could be. Soldier stood at attention in one corner, facing back towards the rest of the base. Pyro was perched on the other corner, dangling his legs and looking out over the battlefield.

 

Neither spoke.

The words had all been spoken.

 

_ “I don’t CARE what they said about you.” Pyro threw his arms around Soldier, voice half-distorted by the filter. “I can’t know how they felt because I’m not them.  Doesn’t the fact that I care mean anything to you?” _

_ Soldier huffed. His helmet had slipped down even further over his eyes, and he turned his gaze out over the field. “It does. It does, Pyro, I just...” He leaned into the hug. “Sniper used to say that. And the moment I trusted it was all real, he was gone.” _

_ Pyro let go of him, stepping back, incredulity visible even through the mask. “So I’m parroting his words again?” _

 

Pyro looked down at his hands. The rubber creaked and squeaked, almost noisome in the tense silence that had settled over the roof.

He risked a glance towards Soldier. The man was still standing firm, back turned.

Still refusing to talk to him.

Pyro didn’t blame Soldier. He knew he’d gone too far.

 

_ “Pyro, you know that’s not what I meant.” _

_ He snorted. “I’m just Sniper’s replacement? Your second chance after he turned on you?” Pyro was angry now, the distortion in his voice more than just the smoke lining his lungs. _

_ Soldier reached out towards him, tipping the helmet back so his eyes were visible. “No! Pyro, no, that’s not it at all! You’re not like him!” _

_ Pyro threw up his hands. “Then why is that all you ever talk about? All of THEM? ‘Sniper used to say this’, ‘I remember Medic saying that’, ‘none of them really cared’.  _ **_I_ ** _ care, dammit! Why can’t you look at me and just see me?” _

_ “I see you!” Soldier stepped towards him, looking lost. “But...human behavior...I see the patterns, the similarities-” _

_ “WHY DO I HAVE TO BE COMPARED?” _

 

He felt awful.

Soldier wasn’t doing anything wrong, Pyro was just...he...

He’d seen his own memories flash before his eyes. Comparisons. Ones he was trying to forget.

But that didn’t excuse the things he’d said.

Or the way he’d said them.

 

_ They both fell silent, Pyro’s shoulders heaving slightly from that last yell. _

_ Then Soldier turned on his heel, marching to the edge of the roof and snapping to attention. _

_ Instantly, Pyro’s anger melted away. He took one step towards the other man, opening his mouth to speak- _

_ Soldier pulled his helmet over his eyes. _

_ Pyro closed his mouth. He moved to the corner of the roof, sitting down and letting his legs fall limply over the edge.  _

 

So now, here they were. 

Because for once, Pyro couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

It was funny, in a stupid way, Pyro thought. Soldier was always the loud one. The one prone to outbursts of affection and emotion. Pyro couldn’t ever gather the confidence to speak like that. He was too afraid, and it never worked.

But apparently, misplaced anger would do the trick.

 

_ The eyepiece of the mask slowly filled with tears as the guilt set in. _

_ What had Pyro done? _

 

Soldier was broken from his reverie by a small tap on his shoulder. He turned, ready to shove Pyro away, make him leave like all the others-

Pyro was still sitting on the other corner of the roof, still facing away, cross-legged. His mask lay on the ground behind him.

Looking down, Soldier saw a small paper airplane, partially blotched with some form of water. He knelt, picking it up and unfolding it.

 

A small doodle, done in crayon. A Pyro jumping in front of a Soldier, both getting blown up by a rocket.

The first time they’d met.

 

On the back of the drawing, there were just two words.

**I’m sorry.**

 

Pyro had closed his eyes, and his ears didn’t quite work properly.

So he almost jumped a bit when Soldier’s arms came around him, pulling him back and settling the smaller man in his lap.

There was a moment of stiffness, and then Pyro curled into his chest.

 

Neither spoke.

The words had all been spoken.


End file.
